Page 14 of Brazen Criminals

“I know they have a room I can afford. I know they’re neat and tidy. I know their majors.” I shrug.

“This is crazy. Why don’t you just go to Emma’s? Try again tomorrow?”

I pick up a bag. “Bryce. You kicked me out. You don’t get to dictate where I live now.”

“I’m not dictating. I’m worried. They could be anyone. Clara, I need you to be safe. I love you.”

The box of dishes slides under one of my arms. “I love you too, Bryce. But this is my choice.” As I look up at him, my anger mixes with sadness, my stupid heart climbing even higher in my throat. “You lost the right to an opinion when you kicked me out.” I grab one more bag and turn toward the door.

He yanks me back again. “I didn’t kick you out! I just need to focus. I can’t waste energy worrying about you rearranging the place around me. You can still come over, just not every night.”

I sigh. “Bryce, I need you to let go.”

“Just say you’ll come over tomorrow night. You know we’re perfect together. I need you.”

I tug at my arm again. “Bryce, let go.”

“Tomorrow. We’ll watch one of your stupid heist flicks. Please, Clara?”

“Bryce. Let me go.”

“Dude, when a girl asks you to let go, you really should.” Jansen is leaning against the door frame, watching. His green eyes look me over. “You okay?”

Bryce huffs behind me. He lets go. My hand drifts, covering the points where his fingers dug in, covering the hurt with care.

Jansen moves farther into the room and piles all my clothes on hangers into his arms, scooping up a box as well. “Can you grab the last of the stuff?” he asks.

I nod and collect the rest of my things, which is too much, but I want to get out of here. Jansen waits for me to leave first, then follows, putting himself between Bryce and me.

Bryce trails us into the hallway. “Clara, I’ll call tonight. We can talk. We’ll figure this out, baby.”

Baby. I hate it when he calls me baby. “Baby” means there won’t be any “I’m sorry.” It means there won’t be any conversation where Bryce will say he was an ass, that he messed up, that he should have done something different. That “baby” means that when we talk tonight, somehow it’s all going to be my fault. That my temper got in the way. That if I just stayed calm, rational, then we wouldn’t be in this situation. “Baby” dumps this whole mess at my feet, and I’m supposed to clean it up. I always clean it up.

I follow Jansen to the elevator, my heart racing. The thing is, I know this isn’t my fault. I didn’t make this problem. And I don’t want to feel the weight of Bryce’s blame, smothering me until I “take responsibility” and apologize, even though he’s the one who lost his cool. I don’t want to feel like I failed; I want to be proud of how quickly I landed on my feet.

When did I become the girl who shapes herself into whatever her partner wants? When did I become so predictable that I can plot the exact course of every conversation Bryce and I have?

What was it that Walker said? That living with them would be an adventure. When did I last have an adventure? When did I just jump and hope? When did I last do anything unexpected?

The elevator dings. I’m done with regrets.

I look up at Jansen. “Give me a minute,” I say.

I dump the stuff out of my arms and turn back to Bryce, reaching into my purse, pulling out the key to what was supposed to be our apartment. I walk back and try to hand it to him. He’s a statue, refusing to take it. “You can keep it, Clara. We’ll talk later, baby.”

No. Just no.

I march past him into the apartment and set the key on the counter. Bryce watches me, one brow up, telling me he thinks I’m acting childish. I step back out, looking up at the man I loved, who, for some stupid reason, I thought I would marry.

Was he always like this? He didn’t even offer to help carry my stuff out. What kind of partner doesn’t even offer to help? Did he always expect me to fix all our problems by myself?

I gave two years of my life to a selfish prick.

I’m not giving him another minute. “Bryce, I’m not your baby.”

“You’re just upset, Clara. You’re not thinking straight. Don’t let your temper get the better of you. Be reasonable.”

I walk back to the elevator. “Goodbye, Bryce.”

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